


The Triskelion Institute

by thegirlwhoknits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everybody flirts, Happy Ending, M/M, Magnus Archives AU, Steter - Freeform, Which will REMAIN in the past goddamn it, past petopher, tiny bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: This is a Magnus Archives AU! If you haven't had the pleasure of listening to this thoroughly awesome podcast, you can find ithere.It's only loosely in the same universe though, so you not need to listen to the podcast to understand this (but you should anyway).For the purpose of this AU, the Hales all lived and run an Institute for the research and investigation of supernatural happenings and artifacts. And they're secretly werewolves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShippersList](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/gifts).



Peter stared morosely at the pile of files stacked on his desk. His _temporary_ desk. If Talia tried to make this head archivist assignment permanent, he’d gut her himself, Alpha or not.

He should be out there helping to deal with this new threat, instead of in here processing statements about it by clueless civilians. But the previous archivist — his niece, Laura — had been gravely injured by the omega rampaging through their territory, and then the Argents had arrived. Talia had decided that it was better for the pack to lie low for the time being. The Argents would love to pin something like this on them.

And Peter didn’t exactly have the best track record of keeping his head around that family.

Still, being reduced from one of the Triskelion Institute’s best ‘investigators’ to a mere pencil-pusher chafed.

A soft knock sounded on the door to the archives. Peter felt a headache start to form behind his eyes. “Come in.”

His nephew Derek pushed the door open slowly, holding a tray. “I brought you some tea?”

“Is that a statement or a question, Derek?” Talia had given the boy an ‘internship’ at the Institute while he was home from college for the summer. Basically, he acted as a gofer, but in Peter’s opinion he couldn’t even adequately perform the basic tasks assigned to him. It wasn’t that the boy didn’t have promise, but he’d never amount to anything if his mother kept coddling him.

Derek just glowered at him and set the mug on the desk a little too heavily. Peter moved the files swiftly out of the way of the sloshing tea with a growl.

“Mom says you’re to finish recording those by the end of the day!” Derek added with satisfaction as the door swung shut again behind him.

~

Four hours later, Peter was nearing the end of his stack and the end of his rope. A few of the files had abjectly refused to record onto the laptop, so he’d had to dig out the ancient tape recorder Laura kept for such circumstances. He’d made fun of her more than once for using it, sure that it was just a matter of technical ineptitude on her part. Apparently not.

This statement was a particularly troubling one. Not only wouldn’t it record on the laptop, the interviewee was apparently the son of the local sheriff, and had come in with a mountain of carefully compiled evidence. He had concluded that the recent attacks were caused by a werewolf (he’d included a couple of other theories, but marked ‘werewolf’ as most likely), _and_ he’d narrowed down the location of the omega’s den to about ten square miles of the Preserve. Something the Institute itself hadn’t managed.

After he completed the recording, he gathered up the file marked _Stiles Stilinski_ and headed to Talia’s office. Something clearly needed to be done about the young man; it would be a disaster if he ran his mouth to the wrong people. He could either end up drawing the Argents’ attention to the Institute, or worse, the public’s attention to the existence of werewolves.

Unfortunately, when he climbed the stairs from the basement-level archives to his sister’s office, he found her already gone. The only person still around seemed to be Boyd, methodically filing the day’s interviews. He checked his watch — seven p.m.  He’d been recording longer than he thought.

He’d just have to deal with this Stiles person himself, then. Probably for the best. Talia would just go for brute intimidation, and this human seemed too clever for that. Institutional opposition tended to make the clever ones even more determined.

Peter, on the other hand, could be subtle…charming.

And, if necessary, ruthless.

~

It was almost laughably easy to locate and spy on Stilinski. For a sheriff’s kid — especially one who suspected the existence of werewolves — he wasn’t nearly cautious enough. The little one-bedroom starter house edged up on the Preserve, with nothing but a porch light to illuminate its surroundings. There was no alarm system, and the curtains on the windows were wide open.

Through them, Peter could see the young man dancing in the kitchen as he cleaned some dishes. He assumed this was Stiles: there was only one car in the driveway, and the scent of the place indicated only one regular occupant.

_Far_ too easy.

Still, he wasn’t _necessarily_ here to kill the boy. Especially not when he was apparently quite pretty as well as clever. It could be far more fun to flirt his way to the information he required.

So instead of exploiting any one of the vulnerabilities he saw, Peter climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door.

“Just a second!” Stiles called from inside. There was a brief clatter and some cursing, the cause of which Peter couldn’t determine from his vantage point. Then the door was flung open on a breathless, panting man in his early twenties.

“Mr. Stiliniski?” Peter asked with a small smirk.

The human flushed a little. “That’s me. Who’s asking?”

“I’m Peter Hale, the temporary head archivist for the Triskelion Institute. I’m just stopping by to follow up on the statement you made with us a few days ago.”

Stiles perked up. “It’s about time! There’s already been another attack.”

Peter hadn’t heard about that. Dammit. Just because he wasn’t on the investigation team didn’t mean Talia could just leave him out of the loop!

“May I come in?” he asked politely, a little annoyed that Stiles hadn’t offered yet.

Strangely, the man just smirked. “I don’t know, can you?” He stepped back from the doorway and gestured Peter inside.

Taking that as an invitation, Peter started to enter the house — and was abruptly thrown back on his ass.

Stiles shrieked with glee. “I knew it! I _knew_ the Institute was run by werewolves. The guy who took my statement was way too bad at looking surprised.”

Peter growled as he got to his feet, but lightly. The human didn’t seem to be intimidated so far, and if he had somehow learned how to use mountain ash, who knew what other tricks he might have up his sleeve? It seemed best to gather as much information as possible before making any rash decisions.

“I take it this means you’re not interested in discussing your findings with us further?” he gritted out.

“Oh no, man, sorry. Just hang on a sec.” Stiles scuffed the mountain ash with his toe and actually let Peter inside. The fact that he didn’t reset the line after him made Peter relieved for himself and also a little worried about the human’s self-preservation instincts. He was glad not to be trapped inside, but at the same time the whole point of his visit was that there was another, less scrupulous werewolf running around.

“You said there’s been another attack?” he asked as Stiles led them into the sparse little kitchen.

“Yeah, one of my father’s deputies. He’s okay, though, his partner managed to pump enough lead into the thing — the werewolf — to distract it so they could get away.”

Peter stopped himself from commenting that lead bullets wouldn’t be more than a distraction in any case. He was there to gather information, not offer it to someone who might still be an enemy.

Stiles poured coffee for them both without asking, and plopped a mug onto the table in front of Peter with some sugar and milk. “Since you’re here, I might as well ask you, I guess. And I’m sorry if this sounds callous, but the lives of people I care about are on the line. Can you give me a good reason not to tell my dad to give his deputies wolfsbane bullets?”

In the middle of stirring a spoonful of sugar into his coffee, Peter froze. He couldn’t keep his eyes from flashing, but Stiles held his gaze steadily. The human looked perfectly earnest, and nothing in his tone suggested a veiled threat, so Peter forced himself to answer calmly.

“To use on the omega, or on werewolves generally? And can I ask where exactly you’re getting your information from?”

Stiles looked shocked. “Dude, no! We’re not just going to go around killing every werewolf we find, who would do that? I mean, the Institute has been around for hundreds of years in this area and in all my digging around I couldn’t find more than one or two incidents like this, so you can’t all be mindless killing machines.”

The human’s heartbeat was steady, if fast, but Peter couldn’t suppress a growl anyway. “Hunters, Stiles. Hunters would do that. Which is why I have to ask again, _where did you get your information?_ From the Argents? And how much have you told them about us?”

“The Argents? Like, Allison’s family?” Stiles sounded puzzled. “No. What have they got to do with this?” Then, apparently realizing that Peter was quickly losing patience, he added, “Back when I was just starting to piece things together, I took some of the crime scene photos to my friend’s boss at the vet clinic, Alan Deaton. He tried to feed me some story about mountain lions at first, but I wore him down until he sketched out the basics for me, and then I weaseled a supply of mountain ash out of him. He didn’t tell me about you guys, though. Or about hunters.”

Peter relaxed, but only a fraction. “Alan Deaton is a druid who’s worked with the Institute before. I’m actually surprised you got any information from him at all; he takes ‘enigmatic’ to a whole new level.”

Stiles grinned, an expression filled with mischief. “I have my ways. My dad says when I get out of the academy he’s going to make me do all the interrogations.”

Sipping his coffee as Stiles went on to describe the defensive measures he wanted to implement at the Beacon County Sheriff’s department, Peter decided he liked this human. He was clever, ruthless but not indiscriminately so, and his enthusiasm was somehow endearing rather than irritating. Of course, that could have something to do with the long, elegant fingers he gestured with as he talked. Or the warm, whisky-colored eyes that sparkled when Peter made a snarky comment.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, Peter found he’d agreed to let Stiles look through the archives the next day, to see if they could pinpoint a likely location for the omega’s lair. He felt something settle in him at the thought of taking action to protect his pack, instead of waiting around for Talia to fix everything. This was his role, what he was born for. And it seemed that Stiles was, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made and alliances formed.   
> LOL, just kidding, have a chapter of everyone flirting with everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was _unbelievably_ hard to keep Chris and Peter from making out in this chapter, so I hope you appreciate my effort to keep this a purely Steter fic.   
>  *pours cold water over the two of them*

Stiles turned up at the Institute around ten o’clock the next morning, where a bemused Derek led him back to the archives. Visitors didn’t generally come down to this level; nor did they turn up, unarmed, asking to see Peter.

“What’s the deal with you and the Argents?” Stiles asked as they pored over maps of the Preserve. “I didn’t ask Allison about it directly, of course, but I get the impression she’s never even heard of the Triskelion Institute, let alone werewolves.”

“She may not have,” Peter allowed. “She’s the daughter of Chris Argent, yes? She would’ve been about six years old the last time our families were at odds, and he disavowed his family after finding out what his sister Kate had done to provoke us.”

“What did she do?” he asked curiously.

Peter’s eyes flicked to the door. “That’s…not my story to tell.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, what happened to his sister? Allison’s never mentioned having an aunt, although I guess if they’re estranged, she might not want to talk about it.”

“I slit her throat,” Peter said matter-of-factly, flicking over a page with one claw.

Stiles’ eyes widened, but to his credit he didn’t look afraid, just impressed. “She must’ve been a real bitch, then.”

“She was.”

Stiles dropped the subject, and they continued their research in companionable silence for another hour or so. Finally, Stiles smacked a map down in front of Peter and pointed at an area on it with his pen. “There. This has got to be where it’s hiding out. It’s a network of underground caves buried deep in the woods. The perfect hideout. And it has multiple entrances and exits, which may be why you haven’t been able to track it to one specific spot.”

“Where did you find this map? I’ve never seen it before. It looks about a hundred years old.” Peter examined the document carefully.

“It was filed under ‘Unresolved Cases: 1983,’” Stiles told him.

“Of course it was.” He examined the map a little while longer, noting the entrances and exits to the tunnel system. “If all these entrances are still open, we’ll need at least six people to cover them. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but Talia has ordered the Institute’s investigative team to stand down while the Argents are in town.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Jordan would be down with helping us. He’s the partner of the deputy who got attacked. The two of them are the only ones my dad’s read in to the supernatural situation so far; he’s still feeling out the rest. Is there anyone you’d trust to help us out?” Stiles asked.

Peter felt a little sour about Stiles being on a first-name basis with Deputy Parrish. He’d met the man once or twice in the course of Institute business, and had to objectively admit he was very attractive.

“I can probably persuade Derek to follow my lead if I spring it on him at the last minute. If I give him time for his conscience to kick in, he’ll go running straight to his mother. And…” He frowned for a moment, then sighed. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed. “I can talk to Chris Argent. He claims to be retired, but even he can’t ignore a threat like this so close to his precious daughter.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, surprised. “From what you’ve said, I didn’t think you’d be on speaking terms with _any_ Argent, let alone in a position to ask them a favor.”

Peter rubbed his temples for a moment before answering. “Well, as I said, Christopher did disavow his family when he found out what his sister had done. And he and I have a…complicated history.”

“Oh.” Stiles’ expression went carefully blank, and he started packing up his things. “Well, that’s five at least. I’ll talk to my dad and see if there’s anyone else he trusts to help us out.”

“Stiles—” Peter paused, unsure what he wanted to say. Stiles looked up at him expectantly. “It was a long time ago.”

Stiles shrugged, but the tightness in his shoulders seemed to ease a little. “Not like it’s any of my business, anyway.”

“Here.” Peter plucked a business card off a holder on the desk. It was Laura’s, of course, but he scrawled his name and cell number on the back of it. “So you can call me later and let me know what your dad says,” he explained.

Stiles smiled, a quiet expression that lit up his face. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll call you.”

~

Stiles called him that night around seven, just as Peter was getting ready for what he was sure would be a very uncomfortable conversation with Chris Argent. He’d arranged a neutral place for them to meet, and at least Chris could be trusted not to let himself be followed.

“Hello Stiles,” he answered. A smile worked its way onto his face unbidden.

“Hi Peter.” Stiles’ voice sounded similarly warm. Then he cleared his throat. “So my dad said Tara — Deputy Graeme — would also be a good choice. He wanted to go himself, but I pulled the ‘only parent’ card and got him to back down.”

“Are you on a first-name basis with all the Beacon County deputies?” Peter absolutely did not blurt out.

Stiles laughed. “Well, I’ve practically lived at the station ever since I was ten, so yeah. Most of them watched me grow up, and I guess the newer ones just took their cue from the rest. It’s going to be a little awkward when I start working there, since everyone kind of thinks of me as a kid.”

A tightness in Peter’s chest eased, although he refused to acknowledge it. “Alright, you’re bringing two deputies and yourself to the table, and I’m about to met with Argent. I’ll grab Derek by the ear when we’re ready to go. If we’re lucky, some of the entrances will be closed off, or we’ll be able to sabotage them. I’d really like for us to be able to go in pairs if possible, though I have no doubt Chris could hold off an omega on his own, at least.” He could too, but he didn’t want to say so.

“I’d take offense to that, but since my only real experience with werewolves is from dusty books and hot archivists, I’ll pass.”

“ _Hot_ archivists?” Peter teased.

“Shut up, you own a mirror,” Stiles shot back, clearly embarrassed. “So, meet up here tomorrow morning for some recon? We’ll go armed, of course, but hopefully we can check things out before we have to engage.”

Peter took a few moments to compose himself after hanging up. It wouldn’t do to turn up grinning like a fool to a meeting with a hunter. It tended to make them suspicious.

~

Chris was already in the clearing when Peter arrived, which didn’t surprise the wolf at all. What did surprise him was how relaxed the human seemed; he only counted two visible weapons.

“Thanks for coming.”

“I honestly expected to hear from you before this, given the circumstances,” the hunter commented. “Also, interesting choice of venue.”

Peter refused to even consider blushing as he glanced up at the treehouse — barely a platform now — where they’d used to meet as teenagers. “Well, Talia ordered all of us to stand down when your family came in.”

Chris took a step forward, his eyes silvered and serious in the moonlight. “It’s not Gerard, you know. I’d never allow him to get within fifty miles of Beacon Hills. I just called a few contacts whom I know follow the Code. Figured, better the devil you know.”

“You could’ve given use some warning,” Peter pointed out.

The hunter huffed a laugh. “And since when are you — or any of the Hales — taking my calls?”

“Good point,” he conceded. And then, not quite holding back a sneer, “How’s Victoria these days?”

Chris shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. She took off about six months after I broke with Gerard, once she figured out she wasn’t going to change my mind. Left Allison a trust fund and a note to open on her sixteenth birthday. She hasn’t touched either,” he said with some pride.

“I’d offer my condolences, but you knew she was a stone-cold bitch when you married her.”

“Did we really meet here just to rehash my romantic mistakes?” Chris sighed.

Peter refused to dwell on the possibility that Chris considered breaking up with him a mistake. “No. I’ve come here because your reinforcements haven’t done their job, and despite what Talia says I believe that our family has an obligation to keep this territory safe.”

“And you want my help?” He raised an eyebrow.

“A contact of mine has narrowed down the location of the omega, but we need a team of at least six to check out the area. He’s a mage, and he’s able to bring two Beacon Hills deputies with him. I’ve got myself and Derek, which leaves us one short.”

“You’re reading in civilians now?” Chris said incredulously. “That seems reckless, even for you.”

“Considering one of them was ‘read in’ by having his partner mauled by this omega, it wasn’t really my call. And Stiles figured out the supernatural aspect out on his own.” Peter bristled.

“Stiles? Stiles Stilinski? Well, that explains the deputies at least. He’s a friend of my daughter’s. Good kid.” Peter tried to suppress a snarl at the considering tone of Chris’s voice, and the hunter laughed. “So it’s like that, huh? I guess he would be your type.”

“Did we come here to discuss _my_ romantic decisions?” Peter shot back.

Still chuckling, Chris said, “No, I guess not. Just tell me where and when, I’ll show up.”


	3. Chapter 3

When he pulled up to Stiles’ house early the next morning with Derek in tow, everyone else was already there. Well, Chris’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway, but Peter had no doubt that he’d arrived first and was lurking somewhere, making sure this wasn’t an ambush.

Peter couldn’t blame him for that. He hadn’t just been referring to romantic entanglement when he’d described their past as ‘complicated.’

Stiles was standing on the front porch, holding a cup of coffee and chatting with an attractive pair of deputies: a built blond man who looked barely out of his twenties, and a slim black woman. Peter tried to ignore the way his heart thumped at the sight, but Derek gave him an odd, sideways look.

“Well, this suddenly makes a lot more sense,” he grumbled.

Peter’s heart tripped again at the way Stiles’ whole face lit up when he spotted them. “Peter!”

“Oh god, it’s mutual,” Derek groaned next to him, getting out of the car. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone happy to see you before. It’s weird.”

Peter resisted the urge to elbow his nephew as they approached the house. “Hello, Stiles. This charming Neanderthal is my nephew, Derek. And you must be Deputies Graeme and Parrish?”

Tara gave him a wide, friendly smile. “Call me Tara, please.”  She looked like she wanted to say more, but just then Chris’ SUV rumbled its way up the gravel drive.

“Fashionably late,” Derek said. “It figures.”

“Oh no, he’s been lurking around the place since dawn,” Stiles told him cheerfully. “He’s lucky I was awake when he tripped my early-warning wards, otherwise the second set would’ve fried him.”

“Second set?” Peter asked, wondering how much magic this human had picked up in such a short time.

“Oh, yeah, they weren’t up yet when you came around. I was still working out the kinks. I feel kind of bad about those squirrels.” Stiles winced.

“Stiles is very focused when he gets interested in something,” Tara said with an amused twist to her mouth. “You should’ve been around the station when he was doing his paper on the history of male circumcision.”

“Hey, Finstock gave me an ‘A’ on that paper, even though it had nothing to do with economics. Of course, he also gave my dad the number of his therapist.”

Tara sniggered, and Parrish looked indulgently amused.

Chris climbed the steps to the porch. He looked good in his tactical gear, and Peter had to fight back a growl when Stiles gave him a clearly appreciative onceover. He was somewhat mollified when, a moment later, Stiles touch the back of his hand gently and gave him a wink. “Don’t worry, you’re still the prettiest princess.”

Chris introduced himself to the group, and he and Tara engaged in a quick discussion about their respective firearms, and the appropriate ammo for dealing with feral werewolves. Peter was pleased to note that he made a point of explaining that the weapons he’d brought were _only_ to be used on the omega.

After everyone had a chance to get comfortable with each other—or at least as comfortable as possible—and finish their coffee, Stiles clapped his hands. “Okay, so hopefully today will just be recon, but just in case, does everyone have their weapon of choice locked and loaded?”

Chris shot a bemused look at Peter, who shrugged. As far as he was concerned, Stiles had done most of the work up to this point, so this was his op. It wasn’t as though the Institute could officially get involved, anyway.

Then Stiles surprised him by drawing a Glock from a side holster Peter hadn’t noticed before. He was torn between being glad that Stiles had come prepared, and cursing himself for letting his guard down. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Stiles could be a threat if he wanted to be, he’d just thought the human would be relying on magic. Which, in retrospect, was a bit stupid. Stiles had just started using magic a month or so ago; as the sheriff’s son, he’d probably been around firearms most of his life.

Peter made a mental note not to let Stiles and Chris spend too much time together.

“You know how to use that thing?” Derek asked. He sounded curious rather than condescending. A typical werewolf, Peter’s nephew was used to relying on claws and teeth in a fight, and mainly associated guns with hunters. Which Stiles clearly was not.

“Yeah, my dad taught me to shoot when I was a kid. Well, after about a _year_ of gun-safety talks. And Tara and I go to the range at least a couple of times a month. I’ve never had to shoot a person, though, so I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

“I’m not going to give you my family’s line that werewolves aren’t people, Stiles, but you should know that when a were is as far gone as this one clearly is, there’s not much that can be done for them. Defending yourself should be your top priority,” Chris told him.

“In this particular instance, he’s right,” Peter agreed reluctantly.

Stiles nodded in acknowledgement. “Anyway, I thought that since there are six of us, we should split up into three teams. Everyone can check out two of the entrances. Tara, you can go with Chris; Derek with Parrish; and Peter and I will stick together.”

Peter tried not to look too pleased, but the look Derek gave him told him he’d failed.

“All the attacks have taken place in the evening or nighttime, so hopefully the omega will be asleep right now. I’ve made some amulets for everyone to hide our scents so we don’t alert it to our presence.”

He passed around a small box, which contained five small muslin bags on leather cords. Chris declined, fishing his own amulet from under his collar to show Stiles.

“And does everyone have the maps I made?” Stiles asked. They all nodded. “Okay, let’s go!”

~

They drove Stiles’ Jeep to the section of the Preserve he’d mapped out for them, stopping about a mile away. “You did a pretty good job planning all this out,” Peter told him.

Stiles flushed slightly. “Thanks. Years of watching my dad plan out ops must’ve rubbed off, I guess.”

“It sounds like you respect him a lot. What does he think about you going into law enforcement?”

“He’s worried about me, of course, but I like to think the pride outweighs that. We’re very different in a lot of ways—he says I inherited my mom’s ‘flexible morals’—but we both believe in justice, and in protecting people.” He shrugged. “Growing up at the station, it was hard to imagine becoming anything other than a police officer like my dad.”

He glanced at Peter. “How about you? You said that you were only the temporary archivist at the Institute; what’s your normal job?”

“I guess it’s not all that different than what you’re describing, just with a narrower scope,” Peter said thoughtfully. “I help investigate the statements that come in, and then if I decide there’s a threat involved, I eliminate it.”

“That sounds a little more like a mob enforcer than law enforcement, but okay,” Stiles chuckled. “What kind of threats are we talking about?”

“Anything from rogue omegas like this one, to violent ghosts or other supernatural entities.”

“So, what makes you different from the hunters? That sounds a lot like the kind of things Chris was describing.”

Peter sneered. “Well, for one, our policy isn’t ‘shoot first, ask questions never.’ Hunters tend to come in, guns blazing, and annihilate everything that doesn’t fit in their neat little box labelled ‘human.’ I know Chris doesn’t come off that way, but then he’s also retired. The rest of his family more than makes up for his unusual level of tolerance.”

Stiles hummed, considering this as they walked on in silence, getting closer to the omega’s territory. The amulets he’d made muffled their movements as well as hiding their scent; there was no point ruining the effect with idle chatter.

The first tunnel entrance was just fifty feet away from the established trail. Two of the attacks had taken place nearby, so Stiles speculated that this part of the network was probably open. He wasn’t wrong. A thick screen of bushes shielded it from view of the path, but behind it was a low stone arch, set into a small hill. It definitely looked manmade, if a little crude. Peter wondered what its original purpose had been.

He sniffed the air cautiously as they approached. The omega had definitely been here, and frequently, but the scent was not so fresh that he thought it was nearby now. It must be in another part of the complex. He shook his head at Stiles’ questioning eyebrow and mouthed, ‘not here.’

“I was hoping we could block this one off, because it’s the closest one to the path,” Stiles whispered. “But it looks pretty solid. Hopefully we’ll have better luck with the next one.”

“It smells like this was what the omega was using a main entrance, but I’d say it hasn’t been back this way for a few days.”

“Maybe it was trying to get away from people?” Stiles suggested. “One of the entrances Derek and Jordan are investigating is near the road—that’s where Jordan’s partner was attacked—but the rest are deeper into the Preserve.”

“It’s possible,” Peter said. “Either his animal nature or human guilt causing him to avoid humans. I’ve heard stories, that if an omega werewolf can full-shift and goes feral far enough from civilization, they can even be absorbed into a natural wolf pack. I don’t know how credible they are though. Only about ten percent of weres can full-shift in the first place.”

“Can you?” Stiles asked curiously.

Peter nodded, with no small amount of pride. “Most of the Hales can. It runs in our family. It might have to do with how deeply we’re connected to the territory; our pack has been here for over two hundred years.”

The human looked impressed. “I’d like to see that someday.”

“Maybe you will,” Peter said coyly. “This isn’t a wolf, though. It doesn’t smell canine or vulpine; maybe a mountain-lion shifter?”

“Deaton did originally say that the injuries could have been caused by a mountain lion. I thought he was just covering up, though, because wolves aren’t native to this area.”

“I’ll text the other teams and let them know we may be looking for a feline shifter, then,” Peter told him.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek’s phone vibrated softly. “Peter says we should be looking for a feline shifter,” he told Jordan.

“Does that make a difference?” the deputy asked. “I didn’t really get a good look at it when it attacked Emily, although I think it had spots?”

“Yeah, that would definitely be unusual for a wolf. And as far as differences, I think we should pay attention to tree branches, ledges, and other high places. Wolves stick to the ground, but a mountain lion shifter would probably be more comfortable up high.” They both glanced up and around.

“You could still smell it, though, right?” Parrish asked a little nervously.

“Most likely. A feral were wouldn’t be using magic or anything to cover its scent the way we are, but it could still be instinctively keeping downwind of us. I’m not catching even old tracks in this area, though, which makes sense because it looks like this entrance caved in decades ago.”

Jordan let out a breath that sounded relieved. “We should head back, then?”

“Yeah. Let me just text the others and see if they need any help fir—” He was cut off by a loud roar from the direction Chris and Tara had taken. “Shit!” His fingers flew as he shot off a text to Peter and then sprinted in the direction of the noise.

~

When they arrived on the scene, they found Chris facing off against a female were… _something_ , in its beta form. Something about the omega seemed familiar to Derek. When she shifted around to face him, he felt his knees start to give way under him.

“Stay back, Derek!” Argent shouted at him.

“K..kate?” he stuttered. The creature just snarled in response, but he was sure it was her, now — the woman who’d used him to try to kill his family. Filled with rage, he felt his transformation sweep over him, and he charged forward.

“Dammit, Hale, I said stay back!” The hunter managed to fire off one round before Derek closed in, but it only grazed Kate’s leg.

~

Peter and Stiles skidded to a stop next to the deputies at the edge of the clearing. They’d quickly assessed the situation as one they were out of their depth in, and were just trying to stay out of the way.

Peter’s mouth dropped open. “You have _got_ to be kidding me. How the _hell_ is that bitch still alive?!”

“Who? What?” Stiles gasped, out of breath and confused. “Peter, what’s going on?”

“It’s Kate fucking Argent,” he growled. “Somehow she must’ve survived, and the wound I gave her was enough for her to turn.”

Stiles appeared to shake this off. “Well, can you get Derek off of her? I can throw up a barrier around her as soon as you’re clear, and then Chris should be able to get a clear shot.”

Peter nodded once without looking at him, and then threw himself into the fray.

~

Peter managed to wrestle his nephew away from Kate, and Stiles threw up a mountain ash barrier around her with impressive speed. Still growling, she threw herself against the invisible wall while Chris watched in horror.

He’d thought his sister was dead. He’d allowed his father to handle the funeral, too consumed with anger and grief to take part, but even the Hales had assured him she was _dead_. He’d grieved, more for the sister she might have been than who she’d grown into, and then he’d moved on.

Seeing her alive, let alone like _this_ , ripped open all those wounds and left them bleeding freely. He could only image how it felt for Derek.

Speaking of Derek; Peter was holding him, pinned and panting, to the forest floor, but that wouldn’t last. It was up to him to finish Kate once and for all, and he had to do it quickly.

He almost felt like he should say something to her, try to reach her somehow, but she was clearly too far gone for that. And even if she wasn’t…Chris might not have turned out as psychopathic as his family would have liked, but he was still too pragmatic to let her live.

He fired a single shot, straight to the head. The sound of it hung in the air amidst a sudden, frozen silence.

~

Stiles left the mountain ash barrier in place while they all picked themselves up and regrouped. They didn’t need any more surprises, and Kate had apparently escaped death once before. Peter gratefully accepted a hand up and off of his nephew. Derek lay on the ground with his eyes closed. Tears leaked out from under his lids, but the physical wounds Kate had managed to inflict were already closing.

Chris and the two deputies walked over to them, although Peter noticed that the hunter made sure to keep his sister’s body in his line of sight at all times. “What the hell was that about, Hale?” he asked harshly. “I thought you killed her?”

Peter rolled his neck and sighed. He heard Stiles asking the deputies if they were okay, as he told Chris, “I don’t know any more than you do. She was dead when I left her; her heartbeat had stopped completely. I wanted to take the body and burn it, but Talia argued that we should leave it as a message to your father. What about you? Weren’t you involved with her funeral?”

“I left that all up to Gerard,” Chris replied shortly. “I didn’t want anything more to do with either of them, at that point.”

“Would someone care to fill me in on all of this?” Stiles asked, then paused and looked around at the chaos in the clearing. “Well, maybe it can wait until we get this cleaned up and get back to my place.

“I think Peter has the right idea,” he continued to Chris. His eyes were soft, and he touched the other man lightly on the shoulder. “Burning her body, this time. I can do it, if you don’t object?”

Chris gave a heavy sigh and nodded once. “Please.”

Derek offered to drive back to Stiles’ house with the deputies, leaving Peter and Chris to watch as Stiles muttered a few words of Latin. Kate’s body, still in the mountain ash circle, burst into flames that flickered between orange, blue, and green.

“Even if she turned from your claws, how did she turn into _that_?” Chris asked him quietly. “What kind of shifter was that, even?”

“A jaguar, if I’m not mistaken, though I’ve never met one in person before. And I’ve run into a few cases before where a person was bitten by one type of were, but became something different. As my sister puts it, ‘Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person that you are.’ Or something like that.” Peter shrugged. “Do you think your father knows about this?”

“I think that if he did, he’d have done everything in his power to keep her contained. Also, he would have come here himself. I wonder what drew her to Beacon Hills?” the hunter mused.

“Unfinished business?” Peter said sardonically.

Finally the flames died down, and Stiles released the circle, leaving the ashes of Kate Argent to swirl and blow away on the breeze.

~

Stiles made coffee for everyone when they arrived back at his house, and gave the deputies a quick debrief before sending them back to report to his dad. Only then did he sit down at the kitchen table with Peter, Chris, and Derek. Peter appreciated the young man’s tact; he obviously realized that there was more to this story than the Hales would want generally known.

“I really don’t want to pry, but I feel like I deserve some kind of explanation for all of this,” Stiles said. “I mean, it didn’t seem like this was anything like what you guys were expecting to find. We were talking about feral werewolves, an unknown omega — not a crazed cat-shifter that you all apparently have history with.”

Derek winced a little. “It’s my fault,” he said softly, then laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder when he tried to interrupt. “No, I know _this_ isn’t, but in the beginning… You know that she tried to burn my family to death?”

When Stiles nodded, he continued, “Well, I’m assuming that Uncle Peter didn’t tell you I’m the reason she was able to get close enough to try. She and I were…involved at the time.”

“She _raped_ you, Derek.” The fierce interjection came from Chris, although Peter’s eyes were also supernaturally red-tinged. “She was your coach, and an adult, and you were _fifteen._ She was a monster, and none of this is your fault. Not now, not then.”

“I know. I _do,_ ” he insisted. “I’m in therapy and everything. But it didn’t feel that way at the time, and this just sort of…brought it all up again.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Stiles said gently. “I didn’t mean to open old wounds. One last question, though: should we expect any more trouble over this?”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll tell my men that the omega’s been taken care of, and that should be enough. Like I told Peter, I don’t think the rest of my family was aware of this. If they had been, they would’ve either tried to kill or contain her. I’m pretty sure she realized that, and that was why she headed here instead. Although I’m not sure whether she was looking for me or someone else.” His eyes cut to Derek quickly, and then away before the werewolf noticed.

They sat in silence for a few moments, each of them lost in their own thoughts as they sipped their coffee. Peter’s thoughts were centered around cursing Kate Argent for interfering in his life once again. Stiles hadn’t really looked at him on their way home, the somber nature of events effectively killing any flirtatious banter. When he and Derek stood to take their leave, Stiles just nodded. He didn’t make any move to pull Peter aside or talk to him privately.

On the plus side, Chris’ SUV pulled out just after him, so at least Peter could take comfort that he hadn’t lost out to the hunter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little change in rating here, to Mature, but it's just a bit at the end if you want to skip it.

Peter had ample opportunity to continue cursing Kate over the next two weeks. He’d received a few texts from Stiles, but they were all requests for information on various supernatural topics. The flirty tone Peter tried to inject into his responses went ignored.

He tried not to be bitter about it. If he were Derek, he’d suspect the boy of flirting to gain access to the archives. But nothing about Stiles, either what he’d witnessed himself or heard from others, said he was that kind of asshole.

No, clearly he was just the kind of asshole who was easily distracted by a new project, or maybe understandably put off by the Hales’ complicated family history. Either way, Peter didn’t expect to see much of him anymore.

There was a knock on the archive door, and it opened immediately.

“I don’t want any damn tea, Derek,” he growled.

“Okay. Mom wants to see you in her office, though.” His nephew went away without closing the door or waiting for a reply.

Peter grumbled as he pushed himself up from his desk. _His_ , because Laura showed no signs of wanting to come back to her position, and as far as he knew Talia wasn’t bothering to look for anyone else to fill it.

He’d seen too much of the inside of his sister’s office lately as it was. She had _not_ been pleased about him taking the initiative in dealing with the omega — _Kate_ — and even less pleased about him including a civilian and an Argent. He hadn’t bothered to tell her that the bulk of the initiative had been taken by Stiles. She wouldn’t have believed him anyway.

He trudged up the short flight of stairs to her office, steeling himself for whatever mundane task or pretty criticism she had for him now. But when he opened the door, he found himself in possession of a clear view of Stiles’ backside, where the human was leaning over Talia’s desk and… _signing_ something. With inhuman speed, he lunged forward and snatched the piece of paper out from under Stiles’ pen.

“What are you making him sign, Talia?” he hissed. “You don’t have to sign anything,” he continued to the bemused-looking mage. “She has no right to demand anything from you.”

Talia rose up from her desk, her face slightly red. “Peter…”

“Look, I know you’re pissed that I involved a human in this, but I trust him, and you should trust _me,”_ he snarled.

To his surprise, she sat back down. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you trust him, because you’re going to be in charge of his training.”

Peter was stunned. “Training? Training for what?”

Stiles beamed at him. “Meet your new Head Archivist!” He stuck his hand out, and Peter shook it numbly, which only seemed to amuse him more. “Or at least I will be, once you’re done showing me the ropes.”

Peter turned back to Talia for confirmation, and she nodded. “Laura has decided she’d rather be in charge of Artifacts, and I agree that she’s probably better suited there.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile; she was obviously well aware of her daughter’s sub-par organizational skills.

“And myself?” he asked.

“Once you’re done training Stiles, you’ll be back to your old position as head of the investigative team. You’ve done a very good job in the archives, but it’s clear your heart isn’t in it.”

For the first time in a great many years, Peter felt like hugging his sister.

“You mind if I finish signing that now?” Stiles asked.

Peter insisted on reading it over first, and demanding a higher salary for his replacement, arguing that his magic was an asset they should compensate him for. But after half an hour of negotiating, Stiles was officially an employee of the Triskelion Institute.

~

Stiles talked his ear off on the way down to the archives, detailing ideas for an improved filing system as well as new security and screening measures. Clearly someone had filled him in on the worm incident from last year, which Peter shuddered to recall. He still couldn’t eat rice.

But when the archive door had swung shut behind them, the human’s chatter abruptly stopped. He looked suddenly nervous, like the weight of his decision had finally descended on him.

“So, umm… You’re okay with this, right? I mean, I don’t want to push you out of your job, but you didn’t seem happy with it anyway…” He clamped his mouth shut.

Peter sighed. “Stiles, don’t worry. You’re right, I wasn’t happy being Head Archivist, and I think you’ll do a great job. And I know we were flirting before, but don’t worry, I won’t make this awkward.”

“Oh.” Stiles looked strangely deflated. “It’s just… Well, I looked through that paperwork pretty thoroughly, and I didn’t see any rules about dating coworkers?”

“Stiles, I know my nephew is attractive, but trust me, you don’t want to deal with that mountain of issues,” Peter said, deadpan.

“What? You think I’m interested in… _Derek?”_ Stiles squawked, and then he smacked Peter’s arm when the older man couldn’t contain his grin. “You asshole, I take it back, I don’t find you attractive at all.”

“Lies,” Peter said smugly, reeling the human in by his belt loops. Crowding up in his space, he dropped a quick nip to Stiles’ pouting lips.

“I’m pretty sure there _are_ rules against this, though,” Stiles objected feebly, even as he pressed his hips into Peter’s. Both of them were hard, and Peter at least was at the end of his patience.

“Consider it part of your training,” he murmured.

Stiles rocked his hips shamelessly against Peters. “I think I’m going to, mmm, like this job even more than I thought.”

They kissed and rutted against each other until Stiles finally pulled away, breathless. “If we keep this up, I’m going to come in my pants, and that would get uncomfortable pretty quickly.

“Rule number one: always keep a change of clothes around,” Peter said. Stiles rolled his eyes. “No, really. You’d be surprised how often you’ll use them, even down here in the archives. This isn’t a _safe_ job, Stiles, even for a paper-pusher. I do hope Talia made that clear.”

“Yes, Dad,” Stiles grumbled. “I wasn’t exactly going for _safe._ In fact, I was talking to Talia about going out into the field sometimes for data collection purposes. With the approval of our Lead Investigator, of course.”

“I’m sure I could be persuaded,” Peter said with a wicked grin, which only grew wider as Stiles slid to his knees. “Especially if you’re going to call me Daddy.”

“I’ll think about it.” Stiles winked, then turned his attention—and those incorrigible long fingers—to tracing the outline of Peter’s dick through the fabric of his pants.

Peter groaned. He should have known the boy would be a horrible tease. “I think I deserve a ‘sir,’ at the very least,” he argued. “Due to my greater experience.”

“What makes you think you’re more experienced?” Stiles asked archly, then laughed when Peter growled. “Mmm, possessive much? I can work with that.” He rewarded the wolf by slowly inching Peter’s zipper down, pausing every little bit to nuzzle and mouth at his cock through the fabric of his underwear.

The spicy scent of Stiles’ arousal drifted up to him, and he could feel his fingertips itch as his control wavered. When his zipper was finally all the way open, Stiles reached up and tugged at his waistband, lifting it up in the front. Peter obliged him by wiggling his hips a little, shimmying the fabric farther down his thighs.

When he’d gotten them all the way off, Stiles stopped abruptly. “Oh! Just a second. Don’t want to get in trouble on my not-even-first day.” Still kneeling, he mumbled a few words under his breath and waved his hand in twisting motion at the door. The lock clicked into place.

“The door is less than three feet away, Stiles,” Peter pointed out, amused.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun this way! Now, where were we?” Stiles looked up at him mischievously. “Oh, that’s right, I was about to suck your cock.”

“If you don’t get on with it, I might decide to do some filing instead,” he growled.

“Yeah, that’s very convincing.” Stiles forestalled any more snark by licking a broad stripe up Peter’s dick. Then he started to suck and lick in earnest. Either he’d been telling the truth earlier about having a lot of experience, or he’d devoted quite a bit of research to the subject. Peter couldn’t decide, and after a particularly clever suck-and-swirl combination made him brace himself against the desk, he admitted that it didn’t really matter.

After that, it took an embarrassingly short time for Peter to come. His control slipped a little as Stiles suckled him through his orgasm, and his claw popped out where he was holding the sides of Stiles’ head gently. One of the grazed the top of his ear, causing the human to shudder violently. Before he could apologize, the scent of Stiles’ come hit him. “Ah shit, now I wish I had brought a change of clothes,” he complained in a shaky voice.

“I have a spare pair of sweatpants you can borrow.” Which would have the added effect of wrapping Stiles in his scent, he thought with satisfaction.

After they’d gotten themselves sorted out, they set a time for Stiles to report the next day for his training, and Peter answered some other questions about what the job required.

“Well, I guess it’s time for my walk of shame,” Stiles quipped. He shouldered his bag, and then stood there for a moment looking uncertain. “So, was this a ‘getting it out of our system’ kind of thing, or…”

“I’d like it to be more, if that’s something you’d be interested in,” Peter told him, reaching out to scent-mark his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” A smile bloomed slowly across Stiles’ face, and he bounced lightly on his toes. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Absolutely.” Peter grinned back. Then, as Stiles turned to leave, “By the way, how did you convince my sister to give you this job?”

Stiles’ eyes sparkled. “Well, you know that unsolved case from 1983? The file we found the map in?”

“Yes?”

“I solved it.” Stiles strolled out the door without any further explanation, leaving Peter to wonder just what he—and the Institute—had just let themselves in for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any plans for a follow-up to this right now, but I left the end a little open, just in case. ;)


End file.
